


midnight snack

by pipsqueakparker (lafbaeyette)



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: (not too much butter if that's not your thing), Kitchen Sex, M/M, because we all must write some butter porn at least once, butter sex, just the boys having a good time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:20:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26753479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lafbaeyette/pseuds/pipsqueakparker
Summary: Simon’s snoring peacefully as I roll out of bed, sliding out of his hold as gently as I can. I’m not sure of the time, it’s still dark and the prospect of blinding myself by checking a phone screen isn’t too appealing.The hour doesn’t matter anyway.Knowing whether it’s 1 AM or 5 AM isn’t going to put my mind at ease and let me drift back to a restful sleep. Nothing that I’ve tried has the power to do that.--AKA, The One Where Simon Finds A Clever Answer to Insomnia
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 14
Kudos: 130





	midnight snack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [abbynormalj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/abbynormalj/gifts).



> hello, hello! the hell month hath ended and i come bearing more erotic butter-y delights. 
> 
> this one was inspired by [this art](https://hufflepunky.tumblr.com/post/628070253655654400/midnight-kitchen-kisses-lil-bit-of-naked-butt) by [@hufflepunky](https://hufflepunky.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr
> 
> i'm a weak bitch for counter sex, so have a little bit. as a treat. 
> 
> thanks a many to hufflepunky for the brilliant title, and i hope you still like it as much as you did the first time you read it <3
> 
> no betas, we die like men! (aside from abby's lil' sneaky peeky)

**BAZ**

Simon’s snoring peacefully as I roll out of bed, sliding out of his hold as gently as I can. I’m not sure of the time, it’s still dark and the prospect of blinding myself by checking a phone screen isn’t too appealing.

The hour doesn’t matter anyway.

Knowing whether it’s 1 AM or 5 AM isn’t going to put my mind at ease and let me drift back to a restful sleep. Nothing that I’ve tried has the power to do that.

All I can do now is roam through the flat until my head stops spinning with anxiety. Crowley, I can't remember the last time I felt this _anxious_. Especially not over school. Keeping up with coursework and getting the best grades has always been stressful, yes, but never to this extent. Never to a point where I can’t sleep without waking up in a cold sweat from an anxiety-dream I can no longer remember.

I find myself in the kitchen, pulling together a quick midnight drink. Simon’s been especially keen on keeping us stocked with blood on hand recently. I’m afraid he can tell how distressed I’ve been, he’s been especially soft and attentive, but I’ve not got the time to feel guilty over not hiding it well enough.

I realize too late that I’ve left my wand by the bed. Staring down into the dark mess of frozen blood in my mug, I hold my other hand beneath it and produce a small flame. Heating it using the range would take too long and no one likes _microwaved_ blood.

Thankfully, Simon bought me this mug specifically for instances like this. It’s meant to be safe for use over a campfire, apparently, and Simon surprised me with it after our gas and electric were out for a week straight. (We don’t have to relive that, I’ll just leave it at this: that was a truly trying week, and we learned a lot about how much heat various kitchen items could withstand.)

The mug has a little illustration of Dracula on it.

He thinks he’s clever.

I hate how much I love this ridiculous thing. (The mug, that is.)

I take a cautious sip from the mug after holding it over the flame for a few minutes. It’s still a bit cold, but I’m impatient. I must have forgotten to drink yesterday. I don’t realize how thirsty I am until I’ve drained half of it.

The ceramic clinks quietly against the counter as I set it down. That’s when I notice the butter dish laid open next to my hand, the edge of the stick marred with suspicious marks.

Simon must have also had a midnight snack before finally coming to bed.

I find myself rolling my eyes fondly, then I hear his heavy footsteps coming down the hall. _Speak of the devil…_

I feign surprise when I feel his tail wrap around my thigh, then his hands slide over my hips. His lips graze the shell of my ear and I shiver, leaning back into him as his arms encircle my waist.

“Everything alright?” Simon’s voice is soft, and so _tender_. As if he actually cares for the answer. Because, for some reason, he does.

I nod my head but I know he sees through that immediately. His arms tighten around me and he’s pressing a line of kisses down the side of my neck.

“Are your courses getting to you?” He asks. “You’ve been a bit worn out lately, yeah?”

I let out a soft sigh and feel myself start to melt into his arms as he slips a hand beneath the hem of my shirt, and his lips continue their path over my skin.

“Maybe we could…?” He dips his fingers just beneath the waistband of my pants, caressing the patch of hair there but not moving further down. The light brush of lips turns into gentle suckling of skin.

I’m suddenly aware of how long it’s been since we’ve been together. I’ve been so caught up in coursework and deadlines, I’ve not even had a proper wank in over a month. The last time Simon and I were any form of sexually intimate was a quick and dirty hand job in the car before our last weekly dinner with Bunce and the American.

Which we’ve missed the past two weeks.

A groan slips past my lips and I’m not sure if it’s from Simon finally brushing his hand over my cock, or my sudden realization that I’m incredibly horny. Simon presses his hips against me and at least I’m not the only one in that state.

“We could...?” I ask, tilting my head enough to catch his lips. He kisses me hard, and sloppy, before answering against my mouth.

“‘m better at showing than telling.”

Then he’s pulling away from me, planting a line of kisses over my neck, shoulder, and back as he pushes me forward, bending me over the counter. I feel something cool and slick on my stomach, but I’m quickly distracted again by Simon’s fingers hooking in my pants and tugging them down.

A choked sound escapes my throat when I realize what he’s doing, when he swipes the flat of his warm tongue across my arse. He nips at a cheek, and then he’s spreading me open and diving straight in.

“Ah, fuck!” My fingers are scrambling for purchase on the top of the counter as he works over me. _In_ me. Crowley, _fuck_. “ _Unngh_ , S-Sim _mph_.”

His fingers leave gooseflesh over my legs as he pulls my pants the rest of the way. He follows the trail with his lips and then he’s stood behind me, urging me to turn around, lifting me onto the counter like I weigh nothing.

“This is incredibly unsanitary.” I murmur. Simon shuts me up at once, slamming his face back into mine and dropping one of his hands into my lap. As if he doesn’t _care_ that I just cleaned this counter.

Once his hand is on my cock I realize that I don’t actually care either, so long as he keeps doing _that_ with his hand and _this_ with his tongue against mine. Snow has always managed to be both the angel and the devil on my shoulder.

I whine into his mouth when he pulls away from me seconds later; he’s squinting in the lowlight provided by the moon from the window behind me.

“Wha-?” He breaks his own question off with a curious hum, then lifts the back of his hand up to his mouth and licks at his knuckles. The way he’s looking at me is absolutely wicked. If I wasn’t already so fucking turned on that look right there would’ve done the job.

“You got a little…” He trails off and kneels between my legs. I jump when his tongue laps against my belly even though I’m watching him. It’s warm and wet, and so, _so_ close to where I _need_ him. He licks again, humming against my skin, whispering under his breath.

_“Butter.”_

I tug the curls at the back of his head as soon as I hear him, eyes narrowing into a mostly harmless glare. (For now.) (So long as he can explain himself.)

“Butter?”

He laughs at my incredulous question, this little snorty sound that scrunches his nose. It’s goddamn adorable. I’ll never forgive him for it.

“Y’had butter.” He offers as if it’s an explanation, reaching up to trail a fingertip down my stomach, right where he’d licked. “Couldn’t let it go to waste.”

I glance down at the counter top. Sure enough, the offending stick of butter from earlier is still there, slightly squished. This must be Simon’s dream. He confirms as much a moment later, soft words that barely reach the air before they’re met by my gasp as he takes me down to the base. I come so quickly after that I should be embarrassed, but it’s hard to be with the way he’s looking up at me. His eyes twinkle with moonlight, wrinkled with his attempt to hold back his grin as he swallows the last of what I could give him.

I tug at his shoulders wordlessly, divesting him of his shirt as he stands. His breath is hot against my neck as I pull him closer, one hand still tangled in his mop of curls, legs encircling his waist. (They’re still tingling. It’s a good thing I was sitting here when I came, otherwise I may well be a puddle on the floor at this point.)

“Should be able to sleep a bit better now, yeah?” Simon says. “Always heard orgasms were good for that.”

“Probably.” I slide my other hand across his broad shoulders, taking a moment to appreciate how bloody _wide_ they are. Perfect for gripping onto. The planes of his back are smooth, and soft beneath my fingers as I follow the slopes and curves until I tuck my fingers beneath the waistband of his trackies. He’s not got any pants on. Of course.

“Maybe two would be better.” He murmurs. “Couldn’t hurt. Make sure, y’know. Good night’s rest.”

I squeeze the globe of his arse. “Take me to bed, then, Simon.”

His arms tighten around my waist and I hold tight to his shoulders, feel the muscles in his back flex beneath my hands and between my legs.

I wouldn’t say it’s the greatest _night’s_ rest, but we do stay in bed well into the afternoon.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading, friends. i hope you enjoyed! you can find me on tumblr: [@pipsqueakparker](https://pipsqueakparker.tumblr.com/)


End file.
